


Don't Call Me Legion (Adoration Remix)

by swtalmnd



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Demons, First Time, M/M, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 02:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10687809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swtalmnd/pseuds/swtalmnd
Summary: When the portal opened in Eames' living room and the call came through in badly-mumbled Latin, curiosity got the best of him.A remix of kenopsia's "Don't Call Me Legion" from the demon's POV.





	Don't Call Me Legion (Adoration Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenopsia (indie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Don't Call Me Legion](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783296) by [kenopsia (indie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indie/pseuds/kenopsia). 



> Thank you to QueenThayet for betaing, and to oceaxe and the rest of Inception Slack for cheering me on!

When the portal opened in Eames' living room and the call came through in badly-mumbled Latin, curiosity got the best of him. Curiosity, and the rush of warmth that came from the world above, which was a temptation in its own right. He let the magic pull him through and found himself in a grotty little flat, surrounded by a circle of uncooked noodles, and faced with a truly delectable young man.

"I, what? What the fuck," said the man. 

Eames extended his senses and smelled the man's nervousness, watched it peak as his eyes found Eames' nakedness. He enjoyed the way the young man flushed when he couldn't seem to stop staring at Eames' penis. Not that Eames could blame him, it was a pretty amazing penis, if you asked him. And it shared Eames' interest in the lovely human.

"You tell me," said Eames lightly. "You're the one who put together this whole summoning ritual." He waved his hand around the room, which met the bare minimum requirements for a summoning, mostly by way of proximity and bad Latin.

"No, I, I didn't mean. You. You're a real demon. I summoned a fucking demon. What the fuck." He was looking more annoyed than aroused now, and that just wouldn't do.

Eames shifted, stretching his body out attractively, and got a satisfying spike of lust in reaction. "I prefer not to use that epithet. It really only applies to Legion." said Eames almost primly. Mischief sparked in him and he added, "I have a hard time believing you went through all this effort, kept yourself in such a state, ate the grains of your homeland, and wore such delightfully soft mixed fabrics for me by accident."

"I, I just said some Latin and put, you know. Round," the man gestured to the floor. "Well, vaguely round. Macaroni isn't very precise. Wait, you don't want to be called a.. Really?"

"I prefer to be called Eames," he said. "I'm sure you'd rather not I call you 'pathetic mote of mortal dust,' either."

"I, I'm not sure I should tell you my name," stammered the man. "Look, can't you just. Fuck. Fuck!" He rubbed his face with his hands.

"I can indeed, if that's what you wish," replied Eames, putting a bit of sexy purr into his voice. "I can make certain you enjoy your first time."

The human stared, eyes wide and cheeks hot, his gaze wandering over Eames' body. Eames kept himself in pretty good shape, if he did say so himself, and between the sigils inked into his skin and the extra flex in his spine, he knew he was impressive to humans of the proper persuasion. Which this one clearly was, if the stirring in his loose trousers was any indication -- not to mention the scent of desire wafting from him like perfume.

Eames stretched his arms overhead and arched his back, showing off his prowess and the swelling cock between his legs, the first ridge beginning to peek out of the foreskin.

The human swallowed. "A-arthur. I'm, I mean, you can call me that. While you, um. While we."

A slow smile blossomed on Eames' lips. "Mmm, Aaaahthur," he purred. "I shall endeavour to do a very good job indeed so that you require my services again soon."

"I, um, oh. All, all right." Arthur plucked at the fabric of his trousers, which Eames now realised were covered in a pattern of strange creatures. "I should probably, um. I'm not very clean, so I'm going to..." He gestured toward what Eames presumed was the loo.

"I'll be waiting, Arthur," said Eames, revelling in the taste of the boy's name. "Come back soon, my lovely little dustmote."

Arthur laughed, sounding a little hysterical, and vanished through a door. Eames amused himself gently perfecting the circle around him, so as to make his exit more dramatic. He did so love a bit of gratuitous showmanship. He licked his lips, poked at macaroni, and waited.

Arthur didn't take too long, emerging pink and flushed, scruffy face now hairless and clothed in items that flattered him better than the previous ones. "All right," he said, standing in front of the circle and visibly gathering his courage. "What do I need to do?"

"Oh, nothing, darling," said Eames, nudging a single noodle out of place with his toe before stepping over the line. "There's a reason most people use paint."

Arthur made a small noise in his throat and took a step back.

"Now, now, dustmote, I've been a good boy, haven't I? You can trust me to do as I've promised," crooned Eames, turning on all his devilish charm. He wasn't sure why he wanted this little human so much, but the smell of arousal and the warmth of his flesh so close were both heady reasons in and of themselves.

Arthur swallowed, then nodded and stepped forward. His dark eyes were even darker with the pupils blown wide, and his breath smelled of mint and sweetness that drew Eames in.

"I'm going to kiss you, dustmote." Eames licked at that pink mouth, one tongue on top and one below, and Arthur made a shocked noise and pulled back.

"Two tongues?" he asked, peering at Eames' mouth.

Eames laughed and showed him, making a show of flicking them against the curious fingers that invaded his mouth before sucking sensually. He moaned softly at the warm, mortal taste of Arthur, the heat of his body and the pulse of life under his fingers.

"You really have to kiss me now," said Arthur, pulling his fingers back and tugging Eames forward.

Eames grinned into the start of the kiss, but his amusement didn't last. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of Arthur's lithe, hot human body against his his, so different from the cold he was used to. "So warm, my little furnace," Eames murmured, licking into Arthur's mouth before he could respond, tongues teasing at his lips and coaxing his tongue out to play.

Arthur moaned, too, melting into him, and Eames' claws slipped into this reality enough to shred the absurd white covering off of him.

"I liked that shirt," Arthur protested, batting Eames' hands away and taking care of the rest himself. Why the boy had banded his middle with animal skin to hold up trousers he was going to immediately remove was a mystery to Eames.

Then again, Eames was generally naked, in the way of his kind.

"I like you better out of it, you've got such skin." Eames could feel his voice reverberating through dimensions, but Arthur seemed to thrill at the sound, so he let it go and concentrated instead on keeping his fingers safe for his fragile mortal darling.

"F-fuck you're so warm." Arthur's voice was breathy, full of lust that Eames could smell and taste and feel down to his toes. He wanted to roll around in the ardor coming off of his dustmote. He picked Arthur up and carried him bodily to the bed he smelled in the other room, full of sleepy-human scents in layer upon layer from many nights spent between the sheets.

"Got to fight against my environment," said Eames, laying him out and snuggling up to to kiss him again. Eames drank in the human taste of him, the tiny drifts of life that rose off him like a heady fog. He nuzzled down Arthur's cheek and buried his nose in the soft, scent-rich crook of his neck and murmured, "I could get intoxicated on this."

"Let's get started, then," Arthur said, legs spreading so Eames could nestle more fully between them, their cocks rubbing together, the slick heads of Eames' dragging against the silky heat of Arthur's.

Eames mmmed, sitting up to look at Arthur again, all pale skin and flushed heat, dark eyes and darker curls, with his lovely prick a sizeable curve against his flat belly. When Arthur struggled to sit up with him, Eames flipped them over instead, laying himself out so Arthur could look his fill. Arthur's hands roamed over Eames' muscular chest, down the length of his waist and around and over the ink embedded under his skin, leaving trails of warmth and life that made Eames' body sing. He arched up with a moan when Arthur's mouth latched onto one hipbone and slid in a hot, wet glide down to the base of his cock.

"You're almost human, but then there's this," said Arthur, sitting up again and cupping Eames' cock. "Hello there."

Eames snorted a laugh, making his erection jump in Arthur's palm as though it was returning his salutation. Arthur wrapped his fingers around it and pulled a circle of heat down over the first ridge, then the second, then the third, bump bump bump, each a small pulse of pleasure that went straight to Eames' balls. Eames moaned, fingers digging into the sheets, fingernails tearing something despite his efforts otherwise.

Arthur didn't seem to care, focused on stroking Eames' cock, on making his thighs tremble with wanting and a chorus of moans in several dimensions drip from his mouth. Eames let him go on for long minutes, exploring the difference in their intimate anatomies, until he was in danger of ending things early. Eames wrapped one careful hand around Arthur's wrist, and said, "Let's move on?"

"Oh, I, um," Arthur stammered adorably as Eames flipped them over again. "I haven't any, um, shit."

"No worries, dustmote," said Eames, hearing his affection leak through into this dimension despite his attempts to hide it. "It won't be a problem."

"I assure you," Arthur began, but his protest turned to a shocked moan when Eames lowered himself onto Arthur's lovely, smooth cock.

Eames groaned along with him, to be filled up with such heat, his own slickness easing the way as his body accepted Arthur's full length inside. Eames took just a moment to rest himself fully on Arthur's hips, getting every centimetre he could inside him, before he started to move his hips, eyes warm enough to glow as he looked down at Arthur's expression of surprised pleasure.

Their bodies moved together with a natural rhythm that only stoked Eames' lust and affection higher, so that smoke curled up from his mouth. He concentrated on keeping his claws out of this dimension in order to allow him to wallow in the feel of Arthur's warmth under his touch, as well as the heat inside him, and the touch of Arthur's hands like trails of fire along his thighs and then wrapped around his greedy cock. The open joy Arthur took in their differences sparked an equal joy in Eames, and it didn't take long for his pleasure to build to a peak.

Eames felt his whole body contracting, come shooting from his cock and glistening where it landed on Arthur's pink skin. He knew he cried out some embarrassingly adoring nonsense as he came, but fortunately it was in a language Arthur was unlikely to know, so he relaxed into Arthur's embrace while Arthur thrust a few more times into his welcoming body and came. Eames let himself cuddle there, curled into Arthur's body and drinking his warmth and the smell of him, sweat and humanity and soap, blood and cologne and come. 

Arthur's hands ran up and down Eames' back, slowing to count his extra ribs, slipping up the smooth curve of his spine. "This isn't how I expected today to end," he said softly.

Eames mmmed again in three of his voices, a chord of curiosity. "Is it over so soon, dustmote?" he said, hearing the regret in his own tone.

"I suppose it doesn't have to be," said Arthur, a smile lighting up his face. "If you don't have other plans."

"Not until work tomorrow," said Eames, giving Arthur another double-tongued kiss as a reward.

"Work?" said Arthur, breaking the kiss with a huffed laugh. "Really?"

"Yes?" said Eames. "I'm not some fledgling that doesn't have to earn his keep."

"Yeah, I guess," said Arthur, kissing him with surprising sweetness. "I guess I never thought about what d-, er, what you did when you weren't being, you know, summoned."

Eames snorted, little curls of smoke coming out of his nostrils playfully.

"So, er, what do you do?" asked Arthur, continuing to stroke Eames' body soothingly, disarming him.

Eames shifted, wondering if he would lose all his appeal once the mortal learned of his mundane duties. "I, er, torture mortals?"

Arthur's eyes narrowed and one finger poked him in the side. "You don't, do you? What do you really do?"

Eames sighed and stole one more kiss, just in case, and then mumbled the answer in several languages and dimensions before managing to spit out, "I sort mail."

"You're a postal worker," said Arthur, grinning hugely.

Eames' eyes narrowed. "I will eat your heart," he said, feeling the affection he felt for this fleeting mortal glow out of his eyes and curl through his body like smoke.

"No, you won't," said Arthur, pulling him closer. One warm finger booped the end of Eames' nose before he found himself being kissed with all the confidence of someone who knows he won't be denied.

* * *

Eames stood in the doorway sipping coffee and just watching his little dustmote sleep. They'd made love again and then shared a cramped but fun shower, and he couldn't bear to leave without saying goodbye.

Arthur stirred, yawning and stretching and rubbing his eyes. "What a night," he said, voice hoarse from sleep.

Eames chuckled. "I know."

Arthur sat up so fast he nearly fell out of bed, and Eames came over to help him back up and steal a kiss. "I guess I won't see you again," said Arthur, looking down at his hands.

"What? Why?" said Eames, trying not to feel hurt despite the cold creeping into his chest.

"Well, I mean, you said I needed to be, you know, for the summoning," said Arthur, looking confused.

Eames laughed, shaking his head at himself and his earlier joke. "No, dustmote. We're neighbours, of a sort, all you have to do is the circle and the chant, and it's like ringing the doorbell."

Arthur's face brightened, relighting the warmth that had kindled in Eames' chest the moment Eames saw him. "Really?"

"Really," said Eames, giving him another kiss. He downed the rest of his coffee and sighed. "I should go, but do feel free to call again."

"I definitely will," said Arthur, following him out to the living room.

Eames toed the macaroni circle back into shape and waved. Just as he was starting to fade from this dimension back into the chill of Hell, he heard Arthur say, "Have a good day at work!"

He was still laughing when he reappeared in his own flat.


End file.
